


Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

by Edgy_Pixel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 50's and 60's Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angel Jean Kirstein, Angel Marco Bott, Childish Marco, Humor, Journalist Jean Kirstein, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Narcolepsy, Moody Marco, Screwed Up Heaven System, Smooth Jazz, split personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edgy_Pixel/pseuds/Edgy_Pixel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the screw-up upstairs ironically named the titan era, all casualties were offered a second chance at a fairly normal life, but only a few took the opportunity, leaving Jean relatively lonely with a considerably pesterous voice in his head that is a particular Marco Bodt. Nothing is exactly guaranteed in this life, mind you. AU Jeanmarco and all that jazz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, he's not crazy. Yes, yes he does have a voice inside his head.

             _“So what do you think?”_

_“About what?”_

_“Don’t ‘about what’ me! You know exactly what…”_

_“… Project re-boot?”_

_“Yeah, isn’t it great?! Thank fucking Christ we’re actually getting a second chance. I mean, reincarnation is no picnic for them, so why they’re doing this out of the kindness of their hearts I have no idea… But who cares?! They’re offering all fallen soldiers from our era a fresh start on solid earth? Sign me up!”_

**** _“…I don’t know if it’s such a good idea…”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Well… I mean… I guess it’s for some people… and not so much for others.”_

_“Wait, hold on… You’re not going? What the hell, man?”_

_“I just… I don’t think I’d want to know what it’d be like… I’m just fine up here. Why fix something that isn’t broken, you know?”_

_“You mean, you actually enjoy this place? It’s so fucking controlled! Come on, Marco, you can’t tell me you enjoy this shit? I feel like I have a damn muzzle on my brain!”_

_“You sure don’t talk like it…”_

_“Well… I think I’m going. Jeagar and friends are going. Sasha. Connie. Levi (though I know you didn’t know the guy too well surface side). Hell, I think even Ymir and Christa are thinking about going.”_

_“…”_

_“Your still not…?”_

_“I don’t think it’s for me. Think about how I died. Think about how I was as a person. Do you really think I could handle that without driving myself mentally insane?”_

_“Well… Damn. I guess that’s it? You’re staying? And I’m…?”_

_“Jeez, Jean. You’d think one of us was disappearing from existence. Haven’t you ever heard of the people who have guardian angels?”_

_“Some angel you’ll be. Who dubbed you as one of those anyways?”_

_“I guess... the humans whenever they decided to create religion.”_

_“The humans, huh?... Feels weird saying that, knowing I’ll be one soon…”_

_“Feels weird saying that knowing that we_ were _one some time ago…”_

_“…”_

_“Take care, Jean.”_

_“You too, Marco.”_

* * *

 

The growl of my alarm clock chirped relentlessly into my ear, piercing my brain like a dull kitchen knife. _Damn. Another fucking early day._

            I had always wanted to be a journalist; even back in the titan days, I always had a passion for writing. A passion to inform, a passion to create; but ultimately my cowardice side got the better of me, sending me to the 104th trainee squad and well… You more or less know the rest. Now wasn’t the time to focus on a life I no longer lived for. Now was the time for freedom. Now was the time for the life _I_ wanted. Now was the time for _ripping the damn alarm clock plug from the wall._ Which is precisely what I did.

            Former life thoughts aside, my life was thoroughly, and more or less happily, immersed in work. As I said before, I wanted to be a journalist, and now, given the proper opportunity, I did just that. School was a breeze, seeing as I only had to slug through college. Thankfully, my reincarnation process poof-ed me into existence sometime after receiving my high school diploma. Yeah, that’s right. No living through teenage, hormonal drama shit again. No thank you. I suppose the system up stairs decided to drop us of right before college to give us the option of furthering our education for a possible career. Which we all, of course, did.

            It was strange, really. The reincarnation process. Strange, but simple. Apparently the whole ‘Titan’ ordeal (it was strange, to think so little of it now) was a momentary screw up in the system upstairs. Of course it was centuries to us when we were living, but time seems to work funny up there. Centuries later, they offered all the casualties of war a second chance; a second chance I took with open arms and without question. I woke up one morning to the delightful chirping of house sparrows and mockingbirds, fully clothed, in a two bedroom, two bathroom, fully furnished house with a small attic. Everything was pleasant. Everything was clean. Upon further investigation, I found the entire block was made up of familiar faces. My house was the second to the end, squeezed right between Connie and Eren’s on a street ironically named Military Circle, seven other houses lined up down the road. _Sasha. Levi. Petra. Armin. Mikasa, Eren, Connie. Reiner, Bertholdt… They’re all here, everyone except Marco…_

_“Aww, thinking about me again, are we, Jean?”_

“Shut up.” I grumbled at the voice inside my head that wasn’t my own, jumping slightly at its sudden intrusion to my thoughts. He knew damn good and well us humans succumbed to emotions much faster than someone like him.

            _“Someone like me? You mean an angel?”_

“Angel my ass.” I hissed, palms on my rebelliously sleepy eyes and fingers raking at my hair. “More like a damn nuisance.”

            _“I’m hurt, Jean. Really. Now get out of bed you lazy ass. You have work today.”_

“Yes, ma’am.” I rolled my eyes, mentally blocking his voice from my head. At least I had an ‘off’ button to flip when I didn’t feel like listening to his bullshit. The perks of having free will, you know?

            Now where was I? Right. Waking up. Letting out what I deemed to be a very intimidating growl, I heaved my legs over the side of the bed, preparing for the inevitable battle my bare feet would wage against my cool, tiled, bedroom floor. The tile won, as always.

            The routine of are reincarnated person is the same as anyone’s; I put my pants on one leg at a time. Come on now, I’m not some sort of freak, I swear. After deeming my apparel and  hair fit for society, I rolled my eyes with a sigh and flipped the small switch in my head I mentioned earlier because, in all honest, on any universal rudeness scale that was definitely of a ‘hanging up on your grandmother’ standard.

            _“You can be an ass, you know?”_

“Yeah? Well you can be obnoxious.” I mentally prepared myself for a snide comeback to my poorly planned lame insult, but was somewhat shocked to find him silent. _Oh. He must be lonely…._

            _“You and I both know I can’t get lonely, Jean.”_ He was right. That was one of the ‘perks’ of living upstairs. No overwhelming emotion. _More like no emotion at all. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s lonely…”_ His voice chirped teasingly, dipping, yet again, into my thoughts.

            “Don’t make me block you.” I growled, leaving my room in favor of the kitchen, searching for some sort of meal. Hmm… How about waffles?... Yeah, that sounds good.

            _“Don’t get fat, Jean~”_ Marco sang, giddiness in his voice.

            “My calorie intake is none of your concern.” I scoffed, pulling down the toaster switch in such a way that clearly demonstrated my deliberate defiance. I huffed at Marco’s chuckle and plopped myself down on the wooden dining room chair. “So, where’ve you been?” I inquired, trying to be nonchalant, though I was strategically waiting to pop the question. Marco may no have feelings, but hell, he wasn’t heartless.

            _“Hmm? What do you mean? We just talked last night… ah. Shit. It happened again didn’t it?”_

I tried to shrug it off with a “Meh, whatever, you were only gone three days” but before even reaching my self-patent ‘whatever’, apologizes flowed through my thoughts as if the dam that was Marco’s emotion block had spontaneously combusted.

            After about the third “ _Holy shit, Jean, I’m so sorry!”_ I was able to get a word in edgewise. “Chill, Marco. It’s no big deal…” I rolled my eyes playfully, but my face would’ve been read as a grimace. Not that I didn’t appreciate the apology, but this was slightly more than out of the ordinary. You would’ve thought he just ran over my dog rather than get mixed up in the time warp between earth and the beyond.

            _Pop._

            Oh right. My waffles.

            After his small fiasco, Marco let out a sigh, the sound of his breath so clear it was almost as if her were in the room. _“This place is so different now.”_

“Hmm? How so?” My attempt at sounding casual was ridiculous, it was impossible for me to act so indifferent when I was really hanging on his every word. Every syllable. How was it upstairs now? Was it really so different? Or was Marco just going through a mood? I pulled down a plate and tossed the still slightly soggy Eggo products on the porcelain surface, my hands in auto-pilot as a searched for the syrup.

            _“I don’t know really, I just get a different feeling lately. All the white coats seem agitated.”_ Marco replied, his voice slowly slipping into a monotone hum as his mind obviously roamed elsewhere. I frowned. He was about as helpful to me as a book written in Latin. Not very.

            I returned to my seat with my calorie infused breakfast and stared into space as I slowly cut into it. Why was he acting so weird today? He seemed so… moody. First playful, then apologetic, now… this? Whatever _this_ might be. I took a bite of my waffle, wincing at it’s bitter tang.

            _“I’m fine, Jean.”_ Now, you’d thing after living with this sudden… _mind probe_ for five years, you’d get used to these little interruptions, yeah?

            No.

            Not in the slightest.

            I took another bite of my meal to hide my start- what the fuck is with these waffles?  _“Really, Jean? Chocolate and maple syrup? I’m starting to think you want to weigh 300 pounds by Christmas.”_  I looked down at the sticky black substance that is –was- my breakfast for the day. I suppose that was when I made up my mind.

            Today was going to suck. 

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting on Archive of Our Own, but far from my first time writing a fan fiction, so I'm still learning the lingo and overall site format. Hope you enjoy my brain drabbles! Normal chapters will probably end up a bit longer than this one, I'm just kind of running this as a beta for my story. Sort of testing the concept's waters, if you will. 
> 
> And please let me know if you have any questions, comments of concerns regarding any of this; I've got kind of a weird concept spinning around in my head and I'm sure it will be easy to accidentally miss-communicate what it is I'm trying to say


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